


The Tide Will Sound, The Wind Will Pound (And The Morning Will Be Breaking)

by Eastmava



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Everything I Touch Turns to Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Mermaid Hux!, Misunderstandings, Pining, Very slight implied/refrenced child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 16:57:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11063232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eastmava/pseuds/Eastmava
Summary: -“Surely every child in the galaxy is told the tale of the Merfolk of Arkanis.” He tries to keep his voice even, steady and strong, but he trembles, cold in a way he never is even in the iciest of waters.“But they’re just a legend,” Ren argues, hand edging ever closer to the shimmering scales on Hux’s lower half. He shivers at the first gentle touch of Ren’s finger to the tightly layered scales of his tail, allows Ren to trail his finger down over them, bumping over the edges, for just a moment before he shoves his hand away with a hissed, “Careful.”-Kylo discovers Hux's secret.





	The Tide Will Sound, The Wind Will Pound (And The Morning Will Be Breaking)

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for MerMay (it still counts even if it gets posted in June, since I wrote it in May, right?). I fell in love with Mermaid Hux, but had to wait to the very last minute to participate.
> 
> This is also very much the fault of obsessions-and-dreams on Tumblr. She's a terrible enabler who encouraged this nonsense. Darling, I adore you.
> 
> Title is from the Bob Dylan song 'When the Ship Comes In'.
> 
> Unbeta'd, so all mistakes are my own, and please let me know if you see any.
> 
> Enjoy!

It’s well into Delta shift and the lights are dimmed in a poor attempt to imitate nighttime. The lights are still too bright to truly capture the darkness of night, despite the inky velvet blackness of space and the shining diamond bright stars that are visible through every viewport. Kylo thinks it’s ridiculous, this poor attempt to recreate a standard planetside day cycle. Something is always off, a perpetual night sky outside the viewports clashing with the full glare of the ugly fluorescent lighting during Alpha shift, and the lights are never truly low enough to feel like night. 

 

Still, he finds something calming about walking through the twisting hallways of the Finalizer this late in the cycle. The staff is stripped to a bare-bones skeleton crew, fewer minds to bounce against his, fewer bodies to fill the narrow corridors, especially this many levels down. He appreciates the solitude, the closest he can get to being truly alone on a ship of this size. Ever since Starkiller, since he returned chastised and belittled and scolded from Snoke’s citadel, he tries to avoid people even more than before. Before it was gratifying to watch people cower before him, he took a perverse pleasure in watching people scurry out of his path. People still look at him with fear but there’s something more now, a jagged edge of disgust and pity when they see the scar that bisects his face. There was something comforting in being an inhuman monster when he wore his mask, it sickens him to be thought of the same when his face is bared to the world.

 

And so he remains mostly in his quarters or training rooms during the day and take these late night walks to burn off restless energy.

 

He’s passing through the gym level, an entire floor of the warship dedicate just for physical training. There are rooms for Stormtooper training, mats for sparring, weight rooms and rooms for endurance training. The spaces reserved for senior offices offer nicer facilities and even feature some not strictly workout related services, such as rooms where pleasure droids can be booked for therapeutic massage. Kylo doesn’t train here himself, he has his own rooms dedicated just for practice, but he enjoys walking through the rooms, picking up the lingering imprints of Force signatures, left behind in the same way a cloying perfume may hang in the air long after its wearer has left. 

 

The reminder of other lives makes him feel less alone.

 

He’s walking past the locked room of the pool, an absurd extravagance for a spaceship, one that requires such a large quantity of their strictly rationed water, when he’s startled to hear a splash of water and what can only be a carefree laugh behind the door. It attracts his attention, the training rooms are locked for routine nightly maintenance at the beginning of Delta shift daily, and no one should be in here except the cleaning droids. There’s a small window, just enough for him to peer in, and he looks through it, catches a flash of movement, a blur of copper. 

 

He raises his hand to open the door but before he can press his palm to the pad the door slides open and General Hux stops mid-stride through the doorway.

 

“Ren,” he says, voice strained with surprise. 

 

He studies Hux, dressed in his uniform although he holds his boots in his hand. His hair is damp, dark with wetness and hanging loose about his face, dripping onto his shoulders, softening that harshness that usually hangs about him, and Kylo can see the carefree boy he was probably never allowed to be. It’s an uncomfortable thought, this insight into Hux, and he’s had similar ones with worrying frequency every since he awoke in medbay, bandages on his face and wrapped around his side, only sure he wasn’t dead because everything hurt too much for him to be, to see Hux keeping vigil in a chair by his bedside, curled forward so his cheek rested on the bed by Kylo’s hip, small little breaths fluttering a lock of hair that had broken free of its gel and was hanging over his pale cheek, looking soft and sweet and vulnerable in a way it shouldn’t be possible for the man who called for the destruction of the Republic just hours before to look. He had twitched his fingers out to brush against the freckles that scatter Hux’s nose and Hux had blinked slowly awake, stared at him with eyes rimmed red before sitting up, wincing at the stiffness in his back from the awkward position.

 

Things have shifted between them since that day. Both humbled by their failure they’d realized it was easier to claw their way out of the graves others were trying to dig for them with help. And Hux, who was never intimidated by his mask, is the only person on board who never seems to notice his scar. He’s learned to recognize the way people’s gaze snag on the jagged line, the quick flick of eyes over the tract of the scar tissue before they intentionally  _ don’t  _ look at it. But Hux never seems to even notice it’s there, his eyes always unwavering when they meet Kylo’s, never detouring to the disfigurement (except for those times he swears Hux’s eyes linger on his lips, that sharp gaze catching every tap of his tongue on his palate, every time he catches his lip between his crooked teeth, but he tries not to think of that, tries not to think of what it could mean, of the way it makes his blood burn hot and his pulse pound and his hands shake, because he’s still not sure Hux even likes him and he can’t risk it, can’t risk ruining this fragile thing that means so much to him). 

 

“Hux,” he greets in return, fights to focus on Hux’s face instead of the way his shirt, the top two buttons undone and underneath his open jacket lets Kylo see the way the light catches in the dips and hollows of his throat. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Swimming,” Hux tells him, voice sharp in a way it hasn’t been toward Kylo in months. 

 

“Isn’t it late?” He asks, wincing even as he says the words, unable to keep them in even though he’s desperate not to start an argument, to return to the animosity between them.

 

“I just finished work. I wanted to relax. Is that alright with you, Ren? Do I need to ask permission to use the facilities on my own ship?”

 

“No!” He rushes to apologize. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” Hux’s shoulders relax, droop just enough to still be military perfect but they lose the hard set.

 

“Of course,” Hux cuts him off, the defensiveness dropped. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day.” Hux reaches up, pushes the hair away from his face. “It’s well past the time I went to bed. Goodnight, Ren.”

 

“Goodnight, Hux,” he returns. He watches Hux walk away, socked feet pat-pat-patting on the floor as he heads for the door. He’s sad to watch Hux depart, spools out fantasies where he said the right thing and  coaxed Hux into getting a cup of caf with him, where they walked side by side down deserted hallways and paused at viewports to take in the view. Stood so close he could feel the heat of Hux’s wiry frame seeping through the heavy layers of wool they both cover themselves in.

 

He walks through the empty rooms but finds they hold no peace for him now. Before it felt comforting, being all alone, but now it only feels lonely. Frustrated, he heads back to his quarters. Now though, he knows that Hux unwinds after long shifts by swimming in the pool. He wonders if Hux would send him away if he snuck in the next time Hux went swimming. He’s never been particularly graceful in the water but he can imagine Hux’s lean body cutting through the water, those pale arms, the same ones that carried him off a collapsing planet, stroking upward to propel Hux forward. 

 

He remembers the laugh he heard through the door, the joyousness in it, unheard of from the stern General. He achingly, desperately want to hear it again, wants to see the accompanying smile that must have been on Hux’s face. He selfishly wants to steal a moment of Hux’s happiness for himself. 

 

____

 

Except Hux isn’t at the pool the next night, or the one after. He skulks around the gym, tries to blend into the shadows in case Hux comes later than he did the first night but the General remains stubbornly away from the pool. Even realizing how absurd it is, acting like he’s trying to catch Hux doing something wrong, doesn’t keep him away. 

 

After the sixth night of fruitlessly haunting the gym he leaves, boots clomping, frustrated, and the surge of irritation carries him all the way to Hux’s door. He stretches his hand out to fling open the door and storm in, demand Hux explain, he falters-  _ what?  _ What will he force Hux to explain? What will he say?  _ The sound of your laughter haunts me, and you don’t even know? I look at you on the bridge and I’m consumed with thoughts of you happy, smiling, and I know I’ll never be the cause of it but how can you be so cruel to deny me the sight, just once? _

 

He drops his hand, suddenly ashamed of himself. Instead he tilts his head until his forehead presses against the chilled durasteel of the door, the barrier, one of so many, that separate him from Hux. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, and turns to leave.

 

He avoids the gym and it’s facilities during Delta shift now, an apology Hux doesn’t know he’s being given. He forces himself to accept that fact that he will probably never get to have that bright spark of Hux’s joy for himself, instead finds a way to take pleasure in the occasional way Hux carries himself some mornings, walk just a little looser, shoulders just a bit more relaxed, a tiny, pleased curl at the corner of Hux’s pretty lips that is only noticeable if you look (and oh, he tries, tries so hard not to look), that all speak of Hux being just a little happier, a little more relaxed, of a stolen few hours of leisure, and he’s sure it means Hux spent the night before cutting his powerful body through the water.

 

It’s weeks after their first and only encounter in the cramped doorway of the pool that Kylo steps off the ramp to his transport ship, safely returned to the Finalizer after a mission. His eyes are gummy with lack of sleep and a bruise blossoms on his ribs, a deep, flowering purple that makes his usually heavy tread hitch, a jolt of pain skittering up his side with every footfall. 

 

There’s a hum in the air, something even more imperceptible than the buzz of the powerful engines, a lingering something that is less than a scent and more a feeling, and when he closes his eyes he can still see the golden glow of it seeping through like sunlight, a rosy shine of a Force signature, and he doesn’t need to search to know it’s Hux’s, calling to him, welcoming him home. 

 

He follows it unthinkingly, lets it guide and coax him through the halls, past weary officers who startle at his determined stride and Troopers who duck into rooms and supply closets to get out of his way. Hux is happy, more than happy, joyous, projecting it outward, and it must be truly strong for the emotion to travel so far from someone as Force null as Hux.

 

He’s unsurprised to find himself standing outside the locked door to the pool, the sounds of water seeping through. Something seems off, and he remembers Hux forcing him to attend a dull meeting just days before he departed where they discussed stopping on a sympathetic planet to resupply. Hux had insisted they empty their water tanks and refill them. Kylo had been jarred by the fact that the scent of chlorine isn’t burning his nose.

 

Hux, for the first time in months, is swimming in fresh water.

 

The door slides open for him silently and he steps inside just in time to catch the pale arc of Hux’s spine, freckles tossed across thin the curve of his shoulders as Hux dives under the water. But it’s not the porcelain expanse of Hux’s back that shocks him to stillness, not his arms, slim but toned, or even the way Hux’s hair feathers around him like a halo in the water.

 

There’s a flash of gold at Hux’s hips, and as Kylo trails his disbelieving eyes down the gold darkens, where Hux’s legs should be there’s a single, strong length of coppery scales, twisting and flexing in the water, ending in a webbed tail that flicks out of the water with a glittering splash. He’s only shocked out of his staring when Hux’s head crests out of the water and he lets out a gleeful whoop, shaking his head with a laugh, flicking clinging drops of water from the ends of his hair. 

 

Hux turns to push off the farside of the pool and dive back under, but when he twists he catches sight of Kylo, shocked to stillness and jaw hanging open, and his hands slip on the edge of the pool, send him faltering and flopping into the water, heart hammering as he curls his tail tight below him and presses close to the wall in what he knows is a useless attempt to hide before his head rises back out of the water, his chin barely peeking out in an instinctive move to protect himself.

 

“Maker, Ren, get OUT!” He yells, anger coursing through him. All this time, his entire life spent carefully guarding his secret, making sure no one found out while he clawed his way through the ranks, having to forgo communal showers in favor of sponging himself clean, night after night, because he couldn’t risk someone seeing what happens when he gets wet. All that, destroyed and gone, lost to him just like Starkiller was, in a moment of carelessness.

 

“What are you?” Ren asks, wonder in his voice as, always contrary, he does the opposite of what Hux wants and walks carefully along the slippery tile to get closer. 

 

“Go away, Ren,” he commands again, although it does nothing. Ren crouches down at the edge of the pool, reaches a hand out like he’s trying to tame a feral creature. He sinks down further into the water, panic seizing him,  _ get away _ , but there’s no place to go,  _ don’t move and he won’t see _ , but there’s no way he already hasn’t.

 

“Hux,” Ren calls, and his voice is gentle, eyes wide and boyish. “Please,  _ let me see you _ .”

 

Hux closes his eyes, ducks his head under and gives himself just a few seconds to enjoy the gentle ebb and flow of the water battering up against him, swishes his tail in the water and focuses on the powerful feel of it, the way it moves in a manner completely unlike his legs but he never has to think about it, just like walking, muscle memory he was born with, before one strong push of his tail brings him right to the edge and he bursts out of the water, palms flat on the ground as he heaves himself out of the comforting touch of the water with strong arms and wriggles his way out and turns around, the very tip of his tail still trailing in the pool.

 

“Stars, Hux,” and Ren’s voice is so very close, Hux can feel the heat of him. “What are you?” He asks again, reaching a hand out to hover over Hux’s tail. 

 

“Surely every child in the galaxy is told the tale of the Merfolk of Arkanis.” He tries to keep his voice even, steady and strong, but he trembles, cold in a way he never is even in the iciest of waters.

 

“But they’re just a legend,” Ren argues, hand edging ever closer to the shimmering scales on Hux’s lower half. He shivers at the first gentle touch of Ren’s finger to the tightly layered scales of his tail, allows Ren to trail his finger down over them, bumping over the edges, for just a moment before he shoves his hand away with a hissed, “Careful.”

 

“Merfolk, they’re just legends, like the Angles of the moons of Iego. They’re not real.”

 

“Well obviously they are.” He tries to spit the words, but they only come out soft and miserable. He sighs, desperate for the comfort of water around him, the closest he’s even gotten to what he imagines a hug from his mother would have been like. “Bring me a towel, and I’ll explain.”

 

Ren pulls a towel to an outstretched hand with the Force, eyes never leaving Hux’s tail. He shifts farther up, curls his tail beside him and begins patting it dry. “My father says that my mother seduced him,” he begins, then frowns, shakes his head. “No, that doesn’t matter.” 

 

“Hux,” and Kylo places a hand on his shoulder. He leans into it before he can think better of it. “Tell me about your mother.”

 

“I don’t know anything about her. I never met her,” he says, a familiar ache that has mostly faded with time but never completely disappeared flaring in his chest. “She was a mermaid, that’s all I know. I imagine she was beautiful. I like to think she wanted to keep me.” Hux tries to blink away the sting of tears, tries to will away the hot flush crawling up his cheeks, but when he looks at Ren his expression isn't mocking, it’s understanding, and Hux remembers that they both probably know what it’s like to wish for different parents, to ache for someone who didn’t just view them as an inconvenience to be cared for until they could fend for themselves.

 

He finishes drying his tail and between one blink and the next he feels the tingling, burning sensation as his legs return, slim but muscled, the light hair on them the same shade of redgold as his scales. He stretches them out, wiggles his toes.

 

“You’re tail grows when you get wet?”

 

“Submerged. I’m fine in rain if I wear shoes, but showers or baths turn me.”

 

“Does it hurt?” Hux is surprised at the concern in his voice.

 

“Yes. No. It’s...odd. I don’t know if I can describe it.”

 

Ren nods, opens his mouth to speak then closes it, reconsidering. Hux braces himself for whatever prying question comes next, tells himself to be gracious and answer it, because Kylo has the power to ruin him, but he hasn’t gone running to tell High Command that the General is charge of their flagship isn’t fully human, which is more than Hux has ever dared to hope if he was found out. “Can I come back tomorrow?” He finally asks.

 

Whatever Hux was expecting it wasn't that. Disgust or mocking, not the tentative smile on Ren’s handsome face that he can’t bring himself to look away from.

 

“Yes,” he breathes, a thrill running through him at the idea of showing off for Ren, at allowing Ren to see him twist and turn and arc through the water. He swallows. “Yes,” he says again, voice stronger.

 

And Ren grins at him. 

 

____

 

There’s an excitement that follows him the entire day, a happiness that made the blaring of his chrono more tolerable, the too bitter flavoe of his caf taste sweeter. The thought buoys him throughout the day- Kylo has seen his tail, and wants to see it again.

 

Only two other people alive have ever seen it, and Brendol had hated the reminder that his bastard child wasn’t fully human. He had thought that was why Maratelle had refused to look at him too, a deep-seated disgust for his inhuman nature. It was only when he was older that he realized she had hated him not just for what he was but for who he had come from. Little Armitage Hux had cried himself to sleep many nights at the unfairness of being despised for something so completely beyond his control. General Hux tells himself the rejection only made him stronger, prepared him for the life of solitude he’s destined to lead.  

 

Three hours before the end of shift he’s so jittery with nervousness and excitement that one of his Lieutenants mutinously switches his caf with a soothing cup of herbal tea. When he takes his first sip everyone on bridge stiffens, bracing themselves for his inevitable harsh scolding, but he surprise them all and simply sips the beverage with a hum. The whispers of gossip begin almost immediately, but he can’t even bring himself to stop it. 

 

After Alpha shift he busies himself in his office, working through the always present pile of flimsi that is apparently necessary for the running of a ship but mostly consists of him scrawling his signature on things that are a waste of his time after skimming them. Still, it’s mindless work to keep him occupied as the chrono ticks down the minutes until Delta shift.

 

He begins his walk to the gym as soon as the hour turns. He falters mid-stride as he realizes they never set a time, it may still be hours until Ren comes, if he comes at all. He shakes his head at his eagerness but continues down anyway. If Ren isn’t there he’ll simply spend some time swimming until he arrives. He didn’t get much of a chance to get in the water during the final stages of planning for Starkiller, too busy with late night meetings and logistics, always on call to solve any new problem that arose. He feels guilty that he only gets to indulge himself so much because of the loss of Starkiller.   

 

When he arrives Ren is waiting for him. 

 

“Evening, Ren,” he greets as he presses his hand to the pad and the door slides open. He can’t suppress the thrill that races through him when Ren’s gaze rakes up and down him. He brushes past Ren, still blocking the doorway, and makes to the far end of the room, where the pool is deep enough he can dive in. Hux reasons to himself that it’s just practical, even as his body heats with the thought of Ren’s eyes on him as he glides through the air and breaks the surface of the water. 

 

He starts to strip, carefully folds each layer of his uniform and piles it all neatly in a corner where it’s not in danger of getting wet, trying to ignore the weight of Ren’s eyes on him. He pulls off his boots with a wince, his calves sore from all day spend trapped in the unforgiving leather, then pauses with his fingers on the waist of his pants, turns to check on Ren and finds him making no attempt to hide his curious stare. “Turn around,” he orders, although his tongue feels too big for his mouth and the words stumble off his tongue.

 

“So shy, Hux?” Ren teases, but there’s a warmth to the words and he turns around as instructed. Hux pretends his hands don’t shake as he steps out of his pants anyway. He pads to the lip of the pool, curls his toes and takes a deep breath, suddenly nervous. He moves to jump in then pauses, takes a breath.

 

“You can look now,” he calls, then runs the final few steps and dives in, hands arrowed together to knife him through the water before he can be embarrassed by the shake in his voice. As soon as his feet are all the way under he feels the burning twitch of muscles, his legs pulled together as they convulse and merge, the prickle as scales pop up to cover the skin. When he breaks through the surface again his tail is fully formed. “Aren’t you coming in?” He calls to Kylo who is standing right on the edge of the pool, staring, half a step away from toppling in whether he plans to or not. 

 

Hux bobs in the water, watching as Ren reaches to undo the belt at his waist before he ducks back under, twisting and somersaulting in the water, although he has to be careful not to scrape his tail on the bottom since he’s longer than even the deepest part in tall with his tail fully stretched out. 

 

When he surfaces again Ren is in the water and his breath hitches at the sight of his bare chest, water dripping off his strong shoulder. Ren smiles at him and his pulse pounds in his chest at the sight of those crooked teeth. He swims closer with lazy flicks of his tail and then circles around Ren, slapping the fin of his tail against the water to splash Ren in the face. Ren lunges for him in revenge but loses his footing and slips on the tile, falls below the surface while Hux darts away with a laugh.

 

Ren chases him around the pool as he remains just out of reach, occasionally letting Ren’s fingers graze his scales when his motivation seems to flag. They exhaust themselves with the juvenile game of tag Ren has no hope of winning but throws himself wholeheartedly into anyway until Hux ducks under the water and wraps his arms around his legs and yanks him off balance, sending him sputtering into the water. 

 

When Ren rises back out of the water Hux is floating peacefully a few feet away, tail swishing back and forth just enough to keep him above the surface. Ren is laughing as he pushes soggy curls away from his face and their eyes catch, hold for just a moment before Hux has to look away to hide his blush.

 

He flips onto his back and lets his tail float, stretches it out and stares at the ceiling above him. The water shifts around him, a gentle wave that laps at his sides and when he turns his head Ren is on his back as well, right beside him, their shoulders brushing when the waves of the water rocks them together.

 

He shudders at the feeling of fingers ghosting over the scales that start low on his stomach, calluses skirting the line of skin and scales. “Does it hurt?” 

 

“No,” he whispers, terrified to shatter the fragile moment stretching out before him. Ren shifts in the water until he’s standing, moves carefully against the pull to runs his hand down the entire length of Hux’s tail until he’s at the webbed fin, carefully touches his fingers to the sharp points at the end of it before they walk back up the other side. He stands at Hux’s hip, big hand warm and flat on Hux’s scales and Hux keeps his eyes at the ceiling, fights not to think about how intimate this would be if he had his legs.

 

“Stars, Hux,” Ren says, sliding his palm over his tail, catching on the raised bumps of his scales. “This is so amazing. I can’t believe this.”

 

He finally looks, finds Ren’s gaze firmly fixed on his tail. He closes his eyes as the knowledge that Ren only cares about this fantastical side of him, that Ren isn’t looking at him so intently because of _who_ he is, only because of _what_ he is, lances through him, knife sharp. He ducks his head under the water and swims away from Ren’s touch to the edge of the pool, levers himself out the water. 

 

“Hux,” Ren calls. “Is everything ok? Did I hurt you?”

 

“No,” he says, voice mournful. It’s not quite a lie, Ren’s touch didn’t hurt him (no, Ren’s touch made him shiver with want, made  heat coil low and tight in his belly, made his skin burn and his heart soar). It’s not Ren’s fault he wants Ren’s eyes on him, wants Ren to look at him with wonder when he doesn’t have his tail, when he’s nothing but a plain human with skinny legs and a soft belly and freckled shoulders. “No, you didn’t hurt me,” he says again. “I’m just tired.”

 

The water laps against the edges as Ren walks toward him. Ren reaches a hand out but he shifts his tail completely out of the water, out of reach, and ignores the flash of hurt across Ren’s face. “Fetch me a towel?” He asks, desperate to have Ren away from him. Usually he stretches out on the tile floor and lets the water drip off of him, let’s himself dry slowly, relishes the last few moments in his other form, but tonight he only wants his legs back so he can run away as fast as he can. 

 

Ren drops a towel at his side and he hurries to dry himself off, pretends he’s concentrating so he doesn’t have to look at Ren and his confused expression. As soon as his legs reappear he stands up even though they’re always wobbly after he turns, the muscles slightly mushy as they reshape themselves. He dresses as quickly as he can, doesn’t even bother toweling off the rest of the way, just pulls his uniform on even though the wool drags unpleasantly over his damp skin. 

 

He doesn’t look at Ren as he walks to the door, reduced to the coward his father always told him he was. He pauses, guilt weighing on his chest when he thinks of the confused, hurt look on Ren’s face when he refused Ren’s touch. “Goodnight, Ren,” he calls softly, and slips out the door before Ren can respond.

 

____

 

Kylo’s not sure what happened, what he did to cause the shift in Hux’s mood. They had been enjoying each other’s company, had been almost playing, and Hux’s smile had been radiant, he had been entranced as he chased Hux around, eager to make a fool out of himself just to hear Hux laugh.

 

His breath had caught when he rose out of the water to see Hux floating, spread out on his back with his tail lazily swishing in the water. He had stared at the gorgeous golden tail, shimmering with wetness, and followed the line of it up to the dip in Hux’s chest, traced up the column of his throat, and when his gaze finally landed on Hux’s face, his expression was relaxed and peaceful, softened from its usual hard set by the faintly feathering lines at the corners of his eyes, his hair a coppery halo floating in the water.

 

He had suddenly been struck with a vision of Hux stretched out on white sheets, legs long and lean instead of the beautiful tail he flicked through the water. He thought about watching those creases at his eyes set in and deepen, spending mornings lying in bed together, watching as silver slowly overtook the copper of Hux’s hair as the years passed. Would his tail change too? Would the scales bleach from gold to silver as Hux aged, or would they always be the same shining gold? 

 

He hadn’t meant to touch, had acted without thought and only realized when he fingers grazed the soft skin at Hux’s belly, the muscles twitching as he ran them down the first line of scales. Hux had let him touch, let him explore the sharp ridges of his tail, and he had stopped with his hand on Hux’s hip, covered in scales even as he imagined warm skin. He had turned, delirious with want, overcome with the desire to bend down and kiss Hux, but that’s when Hux had pulled away and climbed out of the water.

 

Lost, bereft, he had watched Hux scramble to get away from him, panicked in a way he had never seen him before, not even when Hux had staggered under the weight of him, dragged him off of a collapsing planet.

 

Sleep doesn’t come that night, and meditation is fruitless, the Force always dancing right out of his grasp as he tried to harness it. When the lights begin to brighten to imitate sunrise his eyes are red and gummy and his head hurts and he still has no answers. He decides after a cup of caf that he’s just going to have to go find Hux, because whatever else, he knows he’s unwilling to give up this closeness blossoming between them.

 

Except Hux isn’t on the bridge.

 

And he isn’t in his office and he isn’t in the Officer’s Mess. Eventually, exhausted and so tired he startles even himself when he catches his reflection on the durasteel wall, he decides to go to bed and head to the pool after Delta shift. Maybe sleep will bring with it some epiphany. 

 

The pool is empty when he arrives, so he sits at the side and trails his fingers in the water, thinks of the way Hux had moved so gracefully through it, swallows the tightness in his throat when the hours creep by and Hux still hasn’t appeared.

 

____

 

When he was young, before they had to flee Arkanis for the safety of spaceships, Hux would wait until night and creep on silent toes to the refresher. They had a tub, a heavy porcelain thing with a perpetual ring inside it the maid could never fully scrub away that sat on big, ugly, heavy feet of carved wood. He would fill it with water, just a few inches, just enough, and climb in. His tail was smaller then, proportionate to his still growing frame, and he fit comfortably. He would tuck himself against the back of it and stroke the scales of his tail, the tissue-thin webbing of his fin, and think of his mother.

 

Brendol had moved them away from the coast not long after he was born and he wondered if she occasionally swam close to the shore and tried to catch a glimpse of a red-headed little boy, if she worried about him when she never found him. He would hug his tail close and think of the stories he had heard of the merfolk- they were supposedly very beautiful, although his father and Maratelle made it clear he hadn’t inherited that, made sure he knew he was an awkward boy with knobbly knees and obnoxiously bright hair who freckled and burned too easily in the sun. Still, he thought maybe his mother would’ve liked the way he looked. He would sing softly to himself, because all the legends told that the merfolk could lure fisherman to their deaths, could seduce sailors, with their voices. If he closed his eyes and stroked his tail while he lay in the warm water and sang himself lullabies he could almost pretend he was in his mother’s arms as she rocked him to sleep.

 

Brendol had caught him one night, and he had never sat in the tub again.

 

When he made General his larger quarters included a tub with running water. He would sit in it some night, his tail far too long now to fit flopping over the side while he drank a glass of wine. He hadn’t sang in years, had long since stopped wondering what his mother’s voice would sound like. But occasionally he would still run a hand down the scales and console himself with the thought that maybe there was someone out there who could have loved him. 

 

His tail had always been a source of comfort, a reminder that he was more than just Brendol Hux’s bastard son, proof that some small part of him, even if he had to keep it hidden, was special. 

 

Tonight there’s no comfort in his tail, just a heavy promise that no one will ever truly love him, all of him. His father’s hatred of this side of him hurt less than Kylo’s fascination with it. How cruel of the universe, to make his father hate him for his own mistake, and to make Kylo interested only because of the same.

 

He pulls the plug from the tub almost as soon as he’s in, watches the water swirl down the drain, and if a few salty tears are carried with it, no one needs to know. He dries off, changes into sleep clothes and curls onto his bunk with his datapad open on his lap, though his vision is too blurry with blinked back tears for him to work.

 

When his door dings, a request for entry, he doesn’t bother to ask who it is. Just sighs, jots away any lingering wetness in his eyes, and stands on his all too human legs to go answer it.

 

Relief floods Kylo when Hux’s opens the door, and he darts inside before Hux can’t think better of it and kick him out. Hux’s hair is loose around his face, flopping onto his forehead and into his eyes. It’s endearing, watching the usually perfect General constantly push his hair back. Hux looks oddly small despite his height, the collar of his shirt stretched and warped, the soft, worn cotton slipping down to reveal the wings of his collarbones. His arms are wrapped around himself, elbows cupped in his palms as if to ward off a chill. 

He stretches an arm forward to catch the sharp edge of Hux’s jaw, desperate to touch, but Hux takes a jerky step away. “What do you want, Ren?”

 

“You weren’t there. At the pool. Tonight or last night. I thought-” he trails off.

 

“What did you think?” The words are harsh, bitten off, and they sting like a slap.

 

“I thought you enjoyed it. Letting me see you like that. I know I did.”

 

Hux closes his eyes, as if not seeing will keep him from hearing, will let him hide from the truth a little longer. Ren is only interested because Hux’s merfolk side is strange and fascinating. That’s all. He had known, had seen the way he stared at his tail, but he had hoped. Still, it’s better this way, he tries to convince himself. Wounds hurt, but they can heal. Hope, he knows, can break you. Better to squash it early, a lesson he’s learned time and time again, ground into him by his father. “I’m not some toy for your amusement. I’ve seen how you look at me,” he snaps, the words harsh as he fights to keep in an anguished sob. 

 

Kylo takes a step back, wonders how he could’ve been so very, vitally wrong. He had thought Hux could read the signs of his regard, his attraction, was tentatively hinting that his feelings were returned. He had thought when Hux agreed to go swimming with him, to let him see, had let Kylo touch, that he was gradually letting Kylo learn him, because he wanted to learn Kylo.

 

“I’m sorry,” he offers, even though the words don’t seem enough. “You’re just so beautiful.”

 

“I know,” Hux says, voice strained. “I’m sure my tail it quite a sight.” He glances down to his bare feet, the long toes that are nowhere near as striking as his tail. Hux’s voice is heavy with hatred and resignation, but it’s not directed at Kylo. He thinks, hope catching like a small, glowing spark in his chest, that maybe Hux has misunderstood, has interpreted Kylo’s fascination with his tail as an interest only in the mermaid side of him instead of what it really is- a consuming desire to learn everything there is to know about him. His past, that shaped him into the man he is, the present of the man he’s fallen in love with, and the future he hopes they’ll spend together, side by side.

 

“No,” he says, and reaches out again to catch Hux’s face in his hands. “Not just that. All of you. All of the time. How could I not look?” There’s wetness clinging to the corner of Hux’s eyes, caught in his pale lashes, and he brushes it aside. “Human, merfolk. I don’t  _ care, _ Hux. It doesn’t matter. Whatever you are, as long as I can call you mine.”

 

Hux stares at him, disbelief plainly written on his features but with a small, carefully held flame of hope shining through. When Kylo bends down to kiss him his eyes flutter closed, and his lips are soft and inviting. And maybe it’s just his imagination, or maybe it’s just the tears that have slipped from Hux’s eyes, but Kylo would swear he tastes the faint tang of seawater.

 

____

 

Some nights they wait until Delta shift and go to the pool, walking hand in hand to the water’s edge before they jump in. When they resurface Hux’s tail trails behind him, a bewitching, shimmering, shifting sight, and the only thing more beautiful that can make him look away is the softness in Hux’s green eyes when he leans in to kiss him, the sharp glint of Hux’s teeth when he tosses Kylo a grin and takes off, daring Kylo to chase him. They’ll race the length of the pool, back and forth, Hux always darting just out of reach until, laughing, he takes pity and let’s Kylo catch him, wrap warm arms around his waist and pull him tight as they bob in the water and kiss under the dimmed lights, Hux’s tail wrapping around his legs, pulling him impossibly closer, but never close enough.

 

There are shift’s where Hux has been standing all day, his attention in constant demand, and when he finally trudges on weary legs back to their quarters his back aches from bending over consoles and his legs are sore and pinched from the stiff leather of his boots of his perfect posture. Kylo will strip him, peel off each meticulous layer of his uniform and spread him out on their too-small bed, rub the ache from Hux’s strong calves with his big, warm hands, work loose the knots in his back until Hux’s is soft and pliant, relaxed, and they’ll climb under the covers, tangle themselves together in a mess of limbs. He’ll run his hand in a slow, soothing stroke down Hux’s thigh, tickle the bend of his knee and smile when Hux’s huffs at him. Kylo will thumb at the fold of skin in the crease of Hux’s thigh, that perfect, soft little spot where leg meets hip, until Hux whines, then he’ll cup his hand around Hux’s cock, work him with fast, quick strokes and slow, smooth kisses until Hux’s comes. And then Hux will roll him over with a wicked smile and use his own clever fingers to make Kylo moan.

 

The Finalizer is home (anywhere they can both be together is home) but there are times Kylo thinks, for all its vastness, it’s too small. Hux has to be wary of his tail when he executes complicated twists under the water to impress Kylo, has to be careful not to scrape it against the sides or the bottom. And their bed, a standard issue cot that is really not big enough for one of them, let alone both, even though they appreciate the way it forces them to be so close, is cramped and has resulted in elbows in stomachs jarring them awake on more than one occasion.

 

Hux grumbles when Kylo refuses to tell him where they’re going for their five days shore leave, only grins and tells Hux’s it’s a surprise, but the complaining is mostly for show. Hux holds his hand across the console as Kylo pilots them to the secluded planet, his thumb stroking over Kylo’s knuckles.

 

They step off the ramp into soft, blindingly white sand that their boots sink into. “C’mon,” Kylo calls, and tugs on their joined hands to get Hux to follow. Past the house they’ll have all to themselves, the only building for miles around, small, unless you’re used to the quarters on a spaceship, then the three rooms feels palatial.

 

They can hear the waves and smell the salt heavy in the air even before they see the water. They crest a hill and the sea stretches out, an expanse that looks as endless as the sprawling expanse of space, waves capped white in the distance, the tide gently buffering against the shore. Hux drops his hand and begins shedding his clothes as he walks, layers carelessly dropped to the ground until he’s stripped to nothing. He runs the last few yards, straight into the water until it’s up to his chest.

 

When he dives beneath the surf Kylo sees his tail, bright like fire as it catches the sun, peek above the water before it disappears. 

 

Kylo takes a seat on the sand, the tide coming up just enough to cover his toes before washing out again. He watches Hux in the water, his head popping up and he waves to Kylo before going back under. The sun has shifted, the shadows lengthening, when Hux finally swims back to shore and crawls up next to Kylo. The tide has gone out enough that only the very tips of Hux’s fin gets wet.

 

They laze in the sun, sand clinging to them, and trade gritty kisses as they bake, new freckles already sprouting along Hux’s cheeks, until Hux has dried enough that his legs return. 

 

Kylo rolls Hux onto his back, kisses down the line of his chest, settles between those long, perfect legs he knows even now Hux still sometimes worries he doesn’t like. He kisses the fragile, porcelain skin on the inside of a thigh, reaches down to grab his ankle and hooks Hux’s leg over his shoulder so he can nuzzle the soft skin. A quick nip of teeth, just for the pleasure of watching the muscles jump.

 

“I love every part of you,” he whispers, bumps his nose against Hux’s knee, drops a kiss wherever it pleases him. “In any form. But I think I especially love your legs. The way they wrap around me. The way they tangle with mine in the night. But especially,” and his voice drops, goes deep and husky as he noses at the tangle of wiry curls Hux’s cock grows out of, breathes deep the musky scent of the ocean trapped there, “the way they feel when my head is between them.”

 

After that, he’s too busy to say anything else for a long time. 

  
~End

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for making it this far with me in this indulgent piece of fluff!
> 
> If you enjoyed it please consider leaving a comment or a kudos.
> 
> Come say hi on Tumblr! Let's scream about other ways to make these dumb boys mythological creatures!
> 
> Cut-off-the-grain.tumblr.com


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